Breaking the Diet
by TARDIS Time Lord
Summary: Mycroft's passion is really cake, but Lestrade stops by to say hello. Slight food fetish, m/m, slight swearing?


Mycroft let out a luxuriant sigh, leaning back in his office chair. This was his favorite part of the day when he get a short break to eat lunch. Lunch always turned into cake, his favorite food. The red velvet cake pressed against his tongue, the dense food compressing in his mouth. His next meeting was at four (it was currently two), so he had plenty of time to eat and enjoy. Which was extremely rare. Usually, he had only ten minutes for whenever he really got a break, Lestrade was over in a black car in a second. But there was a new serial killer on the street, and Lestrade came to Mycroft's flat tired for the past week or so. The week before, the DI hadn't come home at all, so Mycroft counted his lucky stars. The complete dry spell had left him sensitive all over to the smallest things. With his next bite, the British government let out a near moan, suppressing it by licking the spoon clean of light yellow frosting. His eyes fluttered shut as the man thought of his boyfriend in compromising situations along with the simply heavenly taste of frosting and cake mingling in perfect harmony in his mouth. The side of the spoon split cream cheese frosting from cream cheese frosting and red velvet from red velvet. Slowly, he raised the food to his mouth and let the flavors mingle on his taste buds. "Christ, Mycroft." A familiar voice from across the room, jolting the ginger man upright. His boyfriend had made eating cake look like a pornography, freezing the Detective Inspector in the doorway. Mycroft leaned back again, smiling at Lestrade before putting the frosting-covered spoon to his lips. His tongue peeked out a little bit, a flash of pink against a yellow and silver surface. Lestrade closed the thick wooden door, pleased that the walls blocked out most sound from the outside. Only loud screams could really be head, even if a person had their ear pressed to the door.

Lestrade walked forward, his eyes focused solely on Mycroft's mouth. "Mycroft…" he trailed off for a second, sitting on the mat on the desk. "Dear lord above." He took the delicate spoon from Mycroft, his legs dangling on either side of Mycroft's thighs. He took some of the cake for himself, putting it between his lips and nearly mimicking Mycroft by suppressing a low moan.

"Did I really look like that?" Mycroft asked, his pants tightening uncomfortably. Lestrade looked at him, cutting another bite. The small plate was nearly empty except for crumbs. Lestrade moved it to Mycroft's lips, watching it go into his mouth, enraptured with how the dessert disappeared into his boyfriend's body. He sighed as his eyes watched Mycroft clean the spoon. Lestrade fed him again, feeling his pants tighten further. The plate was clean now, and Lestrade put it at the corner of the desk, wanting to kiss, abuse, and claim Mycroft's mouth with his own.

The man spoke before he could. "What're you doing here?" Lestrade was surprised.

"A… black car picked me up, of course. Mycroft, didn't you know?"

"You were busy with the serial killer." Lestrade scoffed.

"Cases have never stopped you before." Which was certainly trust. Yet Lestrade secretly loved Mycroft's surprise. It was impossible to surprise him, he knew everything about everybody.

"I know, Lestrade." They leaned forward simultaneously, wanting each other and the flavor of cake still of each other's lips.

"I missed you," Lestrade admitted just before they kissed. Short pause before Mycroft replied.

"Yeah. Me too." Everything was suddenly kisses. Their lips familiarly molded together in a dance that refused to become boring. Mycroft's tongue ran along Lestrade's bottom lip quickly, Lestrade opening his mouth a little bit. Cake flavored tongue met cake flavored tongue as the two wrestled for dominance with one another. Mycroft stood, never releasing the others lips as he suddenly towered over his boyfriend on the mahogany desk. Lestrade leaned back a little bit, trying to scoot forward onto the edge and connect Mycroft's groin with his own. Mycroft held onto Lestrade's waist, pulling him to his chest and kissing him rougher. The two gasped against each other, their time apart with no sex really catching up to them both. They were like young teenage boys as their teeth clacked a little bit and their tongues wrestled more. The two broke for desperate breath. Mycroft's slender fingers flew to Lestrade's buttons, sliding the plastic through the loop and undressing Lestrade as fast as possible. The other began to undo the waistcoat, grumbling underneath his breath about the amount of ridiculous layers Mycroft wore for his job as the British Government. Layers were discarded messily, cloth falling onto the floor, forgotten. Mycroft's fingers traced Lestrade's muscles, making them twitch with the stimulation. The government smiled before bending slightly and biting at the place Lestrade's neck met his shoulder. The man groaned out Mycroft's name after a throaty moan and let his head lean back a little bit. His own hands rose to begin undoing Mycroft's belt.

It would be a quick and messy affair with no proper bed and a need for the other growing desperately urgent. Mycroft's pants were unbuttoned and Lestrade slipped his hand inside. Mycroft sighed, pushing his hips forward to let his length meet Lestrade's hand. The fabric was pushed down to reveal Mycroft to the cool air. He opened his eyes to find Lestrade staring… again. He smiled. "Caught you." Lestrade promptly blushed.

"My dear boyfriend is beautiful. How could I not stare?" Mycroft let out a chuckle that turned positively lewd as Greg tugged on him gently. Trying to stay calm, the slightly younger man began on the gray fox's belt. Leather slid through the loops and onto the floor. Mycroft's erection involuntarily jumped as he remembered a time he was pushed against the wall and strapped with it. The other seemed to pick up on the jump and grinned. "The British Government has a dirty side," he purred, remembering as well.

"You know about this already, Greg," Mycroft pointed out. Lestrade laughed, rubbing against Mycroft's bare length, the rough cloth being slightly painful. The pain only added to his erection, and the man couldn't wait anymore.

Slender fingers opened the zip and undid the button. He messily pushed them down to Lestrade's ankles before pushing his own down in a similar way. They didn't have time for much else, really. Giving a kiss to Lestrade, Mycroft grabbed him by the hips, turning Greg around and pushing the upper half of the man to the expensive dark wood. The DI grinned, turning his head a little bit to look at the other.

"Fuck me," he growled out, pushing his bottom backwards and trying to get onto the Holmes brother. The other reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a small tube of lubricant. No matter how rough they were, the two always remembered to prepare their lover for sex properly. The man squeezed some onto his fingers, letting it warm up and cover the digits completely. The government official grabbed one of Greg's cheeks, spreading his bottom gently. The man growled, lifting his hips and pressing his chest into the wood.

"Oh, my dear dirty slut," Mycroft purred. He only really swore in the bedroom, knowing Greg liked hearing such a high-ranking officer whisper dirty nothings into his ear. Greg mewled quietly for Mycroft, pushing against the long fingers. Two slid in simultaneously, driving Greg absolutely mad. It seemed like too long, seemed like forever since they had done this. Mycroft began to move them slowly, loosening the ring of muscles and opening Lestrade gently. The man turned to silly putty in his hands, completely pliable and mushy.

"Please, Mycroft. I can't…" the man groaned out, opening his legs further to try and make the fingers dig ever deeper. Mycroft curved them, sliding out. "Can't wait any longer," he said with a strangled groan. Simultaneously, their eyes slid over to the door, just to make sure. It was locked, of course, and Greg pushed backwards again. "My… please…" Mycroft let out a gentle moan before pushing into his boyfriend completely. The man underneath him whined quietly, pushing at both the desk and Mycroft, wanting all of the man and wanting him to move. He was so full of Mycroft Holmes and it felt brilliant. Mycroft bent over the man, beginning to slide in and out of that tight, hot heat. Lestrade let out a dark moan against the expensive wood, his nails digging in lightly as his boyfriend began to pull in and out at a quicker pace.

Mycroft angled the man's hips just so to push the man's prostrate. Suddenly, the smaller man was seeing bright bursts of color behind his eyes, his cock jumping slightly as the British Government took him roughly over and over. "Please… My, harder," he gasped out. The taller man's hand came around Greg's hips, beginning to stroke him gently, sending the man into a daze of pleasure. Rolling his hips, Greg had a min blowing orgasm, his body falling limp, but Mycroft still moved following his dearest love directly after.

They used the desk as a post for a minute, gently kissing and catching their breath. Mycroft took a box of tissues, cleaning them up and throwing the little paper squares in the trash. They dressed slowly, Mycroft sitting in his chair again. Lestrade perched atop him. "I have a meeting to go to soon, unfortunately." Lestrade was kissing all over his face.

"I know, My. I'm sorry. I wish we could sit here forever and cuddle." The other man grinned, stroking his thigh.

"I'll make sure to be home tonight. How about we get some Chinese takeout, cheap, disgusting beer, and watch Doctor Who?" Lestrade nodded, smiling.

"Let's call it a stay-home date!" Mycroft smiled back, kissing him gently. "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll see you tonight, promise." Lestrade stood a little bit, giving Mycroft another kiss. Greg left and Mycroft looked at the crumb filled plate. He'd have to pick up an entire cake and flowers on his way home. Breaking his diet would be worth it for Greg.


End file.
